Raising Public Hell by Reflecting Out Loud

I was unable to attend a public Google Hangout for #unboundeq

 

Kevin Hodgson beat me to the trigger when he put the Hangout on Vialogues. (If you have never used Vialogues, put simply, it is a way to annotate a video. Columbia University has sponsored this free online tool and I cannot imagine my intellectual life without it.)

I am starting the Vialogue at 42:09 so that Mike Caulfied can ask the big question that Daniel Bassill puts so well in one of his comments: “How do we bring about a culture that not only trains the young, and maybe some of the adult college students, but actually gets these skills and motivations to the people that really need to have it?”

I have copied a relevant passage here using an etherpad alternative, PiratePad. This is where the hell raising comes in the comments below.

 

Suddenly…Nothing…Something…Everything

Reading David M. Dulkrazu’s “The Missing Stanza In Bryant Park”

The Missing Stanza

The tiny Asian woman who
Just walked past me as I sit
Reading a Billy Collins poem
About creating tension
With the word suddenly
Seems the missing stanza
That reveals tension also comes
From walking through a park
Clapping your hands loudly
And shouting obscenities
At no one in particular
©2017 David M. Dulkrazu

I commented:

I was reminded of the opening to Virginia Tufte’s “Artful Sentences” where her first quote is from Anthony Burgess’ Enderby:

And the words slide into the slots ordained by syntax, and glitter as with atmospheric dust with those impurities which we call meaning.

Anthony Burgess, Enderby, 406

And I noted the offending Billy Collins poem from here:

And I wrote a private “thank you” note to the author which turned into a response poem:

 

Thank You for the Memento Mori

Suddenly, I am reminded

of David Hume,

but I can’t remember why.

Suddenly and muddily,

a dead carp of a phrase rises

from Sister Helen’s philosophy class

45 years ago.

“Constant conjunction, not causality”.

Unsuddenly,

I remember cinnamon

rind of orange

cloves

Grandmother’s English Breakfast tea

in nice china cups and saucers

“Constant Comment”

in dorm rooms.

This river of image

just as suddenly

dries up.

 

And just as suddenly the moment, it was over.

 

It Can’t Happen Here/It Can Happen Here/It Has Already Happened Here/You Ain’t Seen Nuthin’ Yet

This rally should be part of every high school civics curriculum. Oh, wait. Those don’t exist any more. OK, high school American History class.

Then we should read:

It Can't Happen Here.
Backcover blurb for Sinclair Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here

And then read,

It can happen here.
The Plot Against America by Philip Roth

And then follow along with Chris Hedges and his long talk on American Anomie:

And, finally,  who would argue against Frank Zappa?